


The Diner

by InNeedOfInspiration



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 1940s AU, F/M, Fluff, Skinny!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 10:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21619006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InNeedOfInspiration/pseuds/InNeedOfInspiration
Summary: Steve Rogers has a crush on the new red-haired waitress at his local diner
Relationships: Captasha, Capwidow, Steve Rogers / Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, romanogers, stevenat
Comments: 21
Kudos: 254





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just some romanogers fluff with skinny!Steve.

Brooklyn Golden Palace Diner was one of the coziest and nicest restaurants in Brooklyn. The food was tasty and affordable, in spite of the general inflation, and, by anyone’s standards, they served the best coffee in the borough. The vibe was as customer-friendly and simple as its name was posh. The bright cyan and white tiling reflected the warm light and matched nicely with the champagne walls. The furniture was second-hand but clean and shiny. And the staff was welcoming and friendly.

Yes, Steve Rogers had every reason to like Brooklyn Golden Palace. It had opened four years ago and soon become one of the locals’ favorite. He and Bucky sometimes had a burger there after watching a baseball game.

Until it eventually became a regular visit. A weekly one, to be precise. Every Saturday. Bucky liked to tease and say it was because of the new waitress. Steve took it in with an eye-roll but never changed the routine. Bucky often let him choose where to sit, which was either on the stools at the counter or the booth in the left corner with a direct, unobstructed view on the aforementioned counter.

Bucky sat on the leather bench across from him and ostentatiously turned to scope the staff area.

“I’m assuming she’s got a shift today or we wouldn’t be here,” James said, obnoxiously loud.

“Stop it! You look like a creep,” Steve groaned as he leaned over the table and pulled his friend’s jacket. He then brushed back the strand of hair hanging over his forehead.

Bucky sniggered before sitting back on the bench.

“How long is it gonna take before you actually talk to her?” he said, then reached for the menu standing against the ketchup bottle. “Lucky you, I don’t mind playing this little game — the food here is pretty decent.”

And Bucky’s eyes hungrily skimmed over the card.

A familiar silhouette coming through the kitchen doors immediately caught Steve’s attention. He watched in awe as the slender, red-haired waitress swayed into the room with a beaming smile. She went over to another booth, collected her tips and picked up the plates. She next walked over to them and gracefully slid her hand into her apron pocket to get the notepad. She then reached for the pencil she always kept tucked behind her ear.

“Gentlemen, what can I get you?” she asked.

James put down the menu. “I’ll have your beef burger with extra pickles and no onion, with a chocolate milkshake.”

He then expectantly glanced over at Steve with an amused smirk tugged at his lips. The waitress mirrored him and turned to Steve. Under the table, he nervously wrapped his hand around his thin arm.

“I…,” he began, then buried his nose in the menu card. He intensely felt the gaze of her large emerald eyes on him and soon, this simple fact, clogged up his mind to the point he couldn’t read the menu.

Counting the long embarrassing seconds going by, he eventually cleared his throat and said: “I’ll have the same.”

He tapped the menu card on the table, glancing at the salt and pepper shakers.

“Noted,” she said with a smirk then vanished behind the counter.

Bucky chuckled. “You hate pickles,” he said. He grabbed a toothpick and put it between his lips.

Steve sighed. “I know.”

James was playfully brushing the toothpick over his bottom lip.

“She’s gorgeous, I’ll give you that,” he said. “Why won’t you say anything to her?”

“Because I’m this scrawny guy, and as you said, she’s gorgeous. The other women don’t look at me, so a woman like her won’t ever notice me.”

He suddenly became sullen, hit in the guts by this undeniable truth.

Bucky smiled comfortingly. “Life is full of surprises. You’ll never know if you don’t try,” his friend said. "What’s her name?”

Steve’s eyes wandered over to the counter where she was pouring coffee into a man’s cup.

“Natasha,” he answered absent-mindedly.

Many months went by and the weekly visits eventually became more regular. He’d go with Bucky then, then when his friend enlisted in the army, he went there alone.

His exchange with Natasha was always brief but cordial enough to fill him with satisfaction until his next visit at the Golden Palace Diner.

Things changed on a foggy Tuesday morning in fall. Natasha wrapped her fingers tightly around her coat as she took out the keys to the diner for her morning shift. A ruckus erupted near the corner.

“Now stay down,” a voice grumbled and she jumped in surprise as she watched a tall man step out of the alleyway behind the diner, rub his sore knuckles and disappear down the street.

After a few seconds, she ventured into the alleyway. Amid the broken crates and knocked down trash cans, she found Steve down on all fours. She recognized her regular customer and rushed over to pick him up.

“Are you all right? What happened?” she asked. Still dizzy, he immediately knew whose voice it was and jumped on his feet before she could help him up.

“I’m ok,” he assured sheepishly and headed out to the main street.

“It’s not safe for you to go alone. Just come inside, we have a first aid kit.”

She looked at him closely and nodded soothingly. He followed her as she took them back to the entrance, unlocked the door and let him in. She closed the door behind them and went to switch on the nearest light. She sat him down, took off her coat and went to get the kit.

She grabbed one of the napkins, put ice in it, and gently pressed it on his swollen lip. He winced silently and she cringed sympathetically. She was sitting on a chair by the bench, quiet but focused.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” she asked.

“I caught him pickpocketing a passerby and tried to get the wallet back. Unsuccessfully as you can tell.”

Natasha nodded, still gently pressing the ice on his throbbing skin. “That’s very brave,” she commented. “Many would have looked the other way. Especially with a guy as tall as him.”

“It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before,” he answered dully. “I can take it.”

She smirked. “So you’re a big guy, huh?” She eyed him intently and he almost reeled. “That’s certainly the last thing I expected,” she whispered with genuine appreciation.

And from that foggy Tuesday morning in fall, it became their inside joke. She’d always greet him as “Big Guy”. Other customers didn’t understand; Tommy, the cook standing behind the kitchen counter didn’t understand; Bucky, who was on furlough, didn’t understand. Only Steve and Natasha did. It was their thing.

Their conversations became more friendly and he eventually found out she was Russian and had moved to the U.S. when she was very young. He knew her last name was Romanoff and he found great pride in knowing he was probably one of the few customers who had been told.

Steve missed Brooklyn Golden Palace Diner greatly after joining the Army. More than Brooklyn or the juicy burgers, he missed the smirk of his favorite waitress.

As he was in the car headed towards the facility that would forever change his destiny, they drove past the street. When Peggy Carter asked him what was so special about it, he answered he’d been beaten up there and looked after by a friendly waitress. He told her her name was Natasha.

Peggy seemed to smile knowingly.

“Well, I’m sure Natasha will be pleased when she sees you again.”

He cleared his throat and blushed slightly at the prospect of it.

A few months later, Steve returned to Brooklyn Golden Palace. Natasha was wiping the waffle machine. His heartbeat quickened and he nervously straightened his tie.

“Is it too late for a milkshake?” he asked.

He heard the smile in her voice.

“I thought you’d forgotten about me, Big Guy.” She said, wiped her hands and turned to face him. She halted and arched an eyebrow as her eyes traveled up his body until they finally met his eyes. He smiled and laid his forearm on the counter.

“What did Tommy put in your scrambled eggs the last time you came?” she inquired jokingly.

It was the first time she saw him since he'd been injected the super-soldier serum. He looked nothing like the regular customer she had picked up after a fight in the alleyway. His body, evidently, had changed, but so had his demeanor. He exuded some confidence his former shape did not allow other people to catch on. His lustrous blond hair was neatly brushed behind his ears and he was wearing his official military suit.

“Look at you!” Tommy called from the kitchen as he leaned over his counter and whistled. Natasha put a hand on her hip and smirked while Steve’s cheeks flushed red.

“You totally ruined my nickname for you. What happened?” she asked.

He smiled. “It’s a long story.”

She tossed her napkin over her shoulder. “Clearly my life isn’t as exciting as yours, I have time to hear it all.”

He cleared his throat as Bucky’s words echoed inside his head. “About that…maybe I could tell you all about it over a drink?” She raised an eyebrow and he shook his head nervously. “If you’d like to, of course.”

She frowned and scratched the side of her head. “I’m closing tonight. Maybe on Monday?”

“I’m going back tomorrow,” he answered. It had taken him days to muster the courage to turn up at the diner and drop the question.

“I see.”

“I don’t mind waiting until your shift is over. If that’s ok with you.”

“Hey darling, my turkey is turning cold and I really need that sauce,” a customer called from across the room.

She rolled her eyes then turned her attention back to him.

“Sure. I won’t be free till 10.30, though.”

“I know. I can wait.” He smiled. She smiled back. “See you later, then.”

He made his way to the exit and, as he walked past the turkey guy, he swiftly knocked the strawberry milkshake onto his lap. The man grumbled loudly, attracting everyone’s attention on them, including Natasha’s who was smirking from the counter.

Steve feigned to apologize — his military suit and new figure were enough to keep the man's mouth shut — then he headed out of the diner.

At 10.25 pm, Steve came back and sat at the booth in the left corner. The place was completely empty, even Tommy had finished cleaning the kitchen and had gone. Natasha was wiping the last wet glasses and plates with a cloth. She smiled at him.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” she said. “It was a long evening.”

Her expression was a little weary. She walked over to his booth and sat down across from him. She stretched her neck and it made a cracking side.

She chuckled. “Sorry. Bad habit.”

She then massaged the bare nape of her neck with her palm. He thought she looked exquisite.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked.

He stood on his feet. “How about we switch roles a bit. You’ve served enough people for today.”

He walked across the empty room, over to the counter, grabbed a clean cup and saucer, and brought them back to the table. He then went again to get the jar of coffee and a spoon from behind the counter.

Natasha had taken off her shoes, climbed up on the bench and sat against the wall as her legs lay along the bench.

He came to stand in front of her and poured coffee into her cup. He came back a few seconds later with a slice of cheesecake covered with syrup. She watched him with unconcealed wonder.

He sat on the bench across the table and watched her as she took a spoonful of the pastry to her mouth. She laid her head back against the wall, wiggled her small feet hanging beyond the edge of her bench and smiled. 

“You know this place like the back of your hand,” she commented.

He propped his chin into the palm of his hand and smiled bashfully. “I may have observed you a lot. Sorry.”

As she looked deep into his blue eyes, she realized how much he looked like that regular customer she had picked up after a fight in the alleyway. She put down the spoon and reached over to nudge his arm.

“Do you want to tell me what happened or not?” she asked with genuine interest.

And he told her about the greatest thing that had ever happened in his life.

At nearly midnight, she glanced over at the clock on the wall.

“Wanna go for a walk?” she asked.

He smiled approvingly. He got on his feet and came to stand over her bench. She stretched out her arms, slipped her small hands into his, and let herself be swept along to a nightly stroll.

The streets were lit with the city lights, shining on beyond the horizon. They kept on walking until their stroll took them to Brooklyn Bridge. The steps echoed on the thick wooden floor below their feet as the moonlight shone between the steel cables. They eventually stopped and leaned on the edge to look across East River and Manhattan.

“When I left Russia with my parents, we had dreams of achieving all that we ever wanted. I still look at the city like that little girl who first wandered through this steel jungle. The dreams are different, though.”

“What dreams?”

She smiled sheepishly.

“I thought I’d take on the world, mesmerize everyone. I guess Golden Palace is the closest I’ll ever get to sparkles and success.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re mesmerizing. It’s only a matter of time before the rest of the world catches on.”

She laughed and buried her face behind the sleeve of her coat. She then cleared her throat and regained her confident countenance.

She raised an eyebrow and stared at him deeply.

A big yawn came through. He smiled fondly.

“Let’s go and I’ll hail you a cab home.”

She blinked. “You’re not offering to walk me back? All the other guys always offer to walk me back tome...to try their luck. They never fully conceal their intentions.”

“I do have intentions," he says and she blinks in surprise. "Hopefully to take you out on a second date…if you’ll have me.”

She eyed him intently. “You’re good,” she remarked with her honeyed voice.

He smiled and started off, but she pulled him back by his sleeve. When he swung around, her lips captured his as she pressed herself against him, standing on her toes, and clutched her hand around his neck. One of his hands fell to her waist while the other cupped her face and pulled her in. Her lips, full and luscious, were warm and sweet. It was only him and her on the deserted bridge, lit by the moonlight.

When they broke the kiss for air, he breathed in the sweet smell of her perfume and pancakes. It made him smile contentedly.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you all night,” she admitted, breathless.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you behind that counter.”

Her pupils quivered as she looked deep into his eyes, amazed and flattered.

“Now,” she began, “are you gonna take me home, Big Guy?”


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the great response! Couldn't resist adding an extra chapter.

The next day, Steve was gone. His dreams of fighting for freedom and justice were crushed by the cannonball of disillusion. He went on a national UFO tour instead, entertaining the crowds with pipe dreams,— all of his— but only within reach on a stage.

He wrote to Natasha almost everyday and she preciously kept the envelopes with stamps from cities all across the country. She re-read them, again and again, behind her counter with insatiable eagerness, then safely tucked them into her apron pocket whenever a customer called.

She knew all about his mixed feelings: how the UFO tour oddly filled his sense of worth with heady thrill, but only ever for a while, before waning and leaving that void more hollow every time.

More and more posters of Captain America were stuck up on walls and venue doors or advertised in the papers. His name began to be uttered publicly, and she heard once or twice some locals at the Diner bring it up.

Natasha, meanwhile, encouraged by her boyfriend’s comforting words, dared chase her old dreams again. She took evening dance classes, every day after her shift, in hopes of entering an official group of ballet dancers. It was hard and exhausting — and she had to work double-time to pay for the classes — but Steve reminded her in every letter that she had what it takes to mesmerize the world.

After a couple of months, Captain America was finally coming to New York for “a splendorous performance”. She glanced at her reflection in one of the windows of the theater and cleared her throat nervously. Her lips were colored bright red and her hair was styled elegantly for the occasion. She was wearing a new outfit she had saved up for for weeks, after reading the letter wherein he announced his return.

She showed her ticket to the employee who tore it up slightly to her disappointment. He then moved on to throw it onto the pile of other tickets in the can when she interrupted.

“May I keep it, please?” she asked with a smile. The man eyed her curiously. “It has sentimental value.”

The employee shrugged it off and handed it to her. She pressed the tear between her gloved thumb and fingers before putting it back into her purse. Next, she entered the main room and was greeted by a dozen lights and decorations. People, all dressed up, were rushing to get the best seats at the front. She took off her coat and sat down on one of the seats available in the back.

After a few minutes, a female member of the crew came up to her with a smile.

“You’re Natasha, aren’t you?”

She nodded. The girl smiled at her. “A seat has been reserved for you. If you’ll please follow me.”

She put the coat around her arm, took her purse, and walked up to the very front row.

She blinked. “I— I don’t think I have the right ticket to sit here.”

The girl joined her hands together and smiled. “No worries. It was requested by Captain America himself. Enjoy the show.”

And she certainly did. From the moment the lights were turned off and the curtain was pulled up, she was spellbound. Her heartbeat quickened up expectantly when the name of Captain America was called and he came on stage. Sure, the costume was ridiculous, the storyline was corny, the music and song lyrics were clichéd but she loved every second of it, feeling great pride in seeing her boyfriend performing on stage, cheered on and beheld as a hero.

There was a sparkle in her eyes when the curtain came down and she jumped on her feet to clap.

A few minutes later, the same employee from earlier came to take her backstage. She walked into the room finding Steve standing sheepishly as he signed an autograph for a little girl holding her father’s hand. Some of the UFO dancers were huddled around him, including one who draped her arm over his back. He didn’t seem to notice.

As the little girl excitedly flashed through the doorway while staring at her signed photograph, his eyes fell upon her. His face changed completely, veiled with a complex combination of vulnerability and glee.

“Natasha,” he whispered.

“Hi, Big Guy.”

All the dancers, busy putting on extra make-up or brushing their hair, spun around and stared in awe. They giggled loudly. The other girl dropped her arm.

“NATASHA,” they hollered before bursting into laughter.

They soon surrounded her, sharing comments out loud about how pretty indeed she looked, among other things.

“I’m hungry,” one of them eventually said. “Let’s check out what we can get!”

They squeezed her shoulder, hugged her, kissed her cheek before hurrying out of the backstage room. Only the other girl paused slightly, told Steve goodbye, before leaving under Natasha’s attentive look.

He ran up to her and kissed her before holding her in his arms. 

“I’m so happy to see you,” he murmured, gazing at her.

“You too,” she said with a beaming smile. “You have a fan,” she continued coolly glancing through the hall at the handsy dancer from earlier.

“Lucy Ann?” he exclaimed as he walked back to the center of the room, “she’s just a colleague.”

“I don’t doubt it…for you. She, on the other hand, wants a piece of Captain America.”

He folded his arms awkwardly and leaned on the chair behind him.

Her eyes lit up. “I can’t blame her, though. You strangely look yummy in that costume.”

He frowned then laughed nervously. “It’s part of the role. I hate it.”

She smirked then nibbled her thumb seductively. “I may have a way to fix that.”

She turned around to close the door behind her and dropped her coat and purse on the clothes stand in the corner. She walked up to him alluringly.

She captured his lips and pulled him in as she began to suck on them. As she stepped back and undid the top buttons of her blouse, he blushed hard.

“Here? What if we get caught?”

He clung onto the chair and closed his eyes shut as she buried her face into his neck and her mouth began to travel down his throat.

“W-wait,” he mumbled weakly and she pulled away with a conniving smirk as she opened her blouse wide, revealing the red lace bra she was wearing. He let out a whimper and came at her lips, eager and passionate, slipping the blouse off of her.

She moved closer as he pulled away toward the long table normally used as a dressing table.

She pressed a hand on his torso and pushed him down so he lay completely on his back.

Her hands then moved to her back and she opened the zip of her skirt, letting it drop to the floor.

He ran his fingers through his hair, torn between reason and ardent lust, and sighed as he quickly glanced at the door. 

“What if someone walks in on us?” he murmured, out of breath.

Natasha climbed onto the table and straddled him. She leaned down.

“Well, hopefully, that’ll be Lucy Ann.”

And she kissed him again. The loud music of the jazz band playing in the main room covered the sound of their moans.

* * *

The following week, Natasha received a very different kind of letter. He wrote to her about how Peggy Carter had come to one his shows for the soldiers and told him Bucky’s regiment had been ambushed by Hydra in Azzano; and how she had helped him, along with Howard Stark, to fly to Austria in the hope of finding him alive and rescuing him. The unofficial mission was successful and granted him a place in the army.

Her hand shook a bit as she read the words but she smiled with gleaming eyes.

_I’m so proud of you, Steve. It’s about time the world gets to know the true worth of Captain America, _she wrote in her reply.

After that, she expectantly opened every letter to read about his latest adventures. His name began to grow big and came out of the lips of almost every customer; and the people downtown. And in the headlines of big newspapers.

Everybody knew of Captain America and admired his boundless courage. And she couldn’t be prouder despite the fear of losing him. She found solace in holding onto the fact the super-soldier serum kept him safe.

The story of his exploits was also accompanied by the most trivial anecdotes.

_A female private kissed me behind folder shelves, today! I’m not really sure how this happened. Peggy caught us before I could pull away. She was furious — she said she was disappointed I was disrespectful to you. I told her we’d laugh about it together!_

In her letter, Natasha answered:

_Who knew people at the army were so frivolous? Please send my regards to Peggy Carter for her loyalty to me._

She, on the other hand, went from one unsuccessful audition to another. The reasons were varied: not being a student in a reputed ballet school; too petite; not fitting the traditional profile. As she wrote in one of her letters:

_The jury said it was uncommon to see red-haired dancers; the audience is accustomed to a certain ‘archetype’ apparently. My teacher suggested I dye my hair blond. Maybe he’s right._

To which Steve replied:

_You are perfect the way you are. You shouldn’t have to change for anyone. Someday you will be known as the dancer with the red hair and you won’t share the title with any other ballerina._

Making both ends meet eventually became a real issue to the point she had to consider quitting her evening classes. That was until the morning after Christmas when her teacher called and said all her classes for the next semester had been paid for. The ink on the letter Steve received for the holiday was stained by one of her tears. 

In 1945, Steve Rogers demonstrated heroism for the last time as he flew Red Skull’s plane into the ocean. Peggy Carter spoke to him on the radio until the very last moment. As he came to the sad realization it was the end, he told his friend:

“Peggy, I need one last favor from you. There is a letter at the bottom of my footlocker. I need you to give it to Natasha. Please.”

His hands were tightly clasped around the throttle handles, knuckles white. He heard her sniffing quietly.

“I promise, Steve.”

He nodded to himself as sadness and anguish slowly crept in. As he got nearer to the ice ground, he closed his eyes and thought of Natasha.

A couple of days later, Brooklyn Golden Palace Diner had an unexpected visitor. Natasha halted and her expression froze as she saw the dark-haired woman in a military suit standing by the entrance with a grave and compassionate expression. Natasha put the plates down and headed over to her with a pounding heart.

She heard the British accent.

“I wanted you to know about it first before the news is made public. And I wanted you to get it from me personally,” Peggy said as she handed in the letter. Natasha gulped down as her fingers wrapped around her apron. Peggy looked at her with gleaming eyes. “I am so sorry.”

Natasha shook her head as her chest tightened to the point she thought her heart would burst.

“No, no, no,” she cried loudly as tears raced down her face. All the customers turned and witnessed the tragic spectacle. Peggy stepped closer and held her shaking body in her arms.

His last letter read:

_Dear Natasha,_

_If you are reading this letter it means that I did not make it back — and I apologize for failing to keep my promise to you. It’s a letter that I’ve dreaded to write (and that I will keep hidden away until I hopefully destroy it) but I can’t resolve myself to not send you one last letter to say goodbye. Although you are across an ocean, you were with me always; and I know I shall think of you in my last moment. Because, simply put, it’s always been about you._

_Despite the dozens of papers I have filled with the story of my adventures, you forever remain my greatest one. My so-called ‘heroic feats’ do not stand with my first act of courage: that evening I turned up at the diner and finally asked you out._

_Please don’t be sad when you think of me. Be happy. I am writing this letter with the absolute faith that you and I belong together. If not in this lifetime, then in another. That’s where you’ll find me…waiting for you._

_Yours always and forever,_

_S.R. _

This was the end of Captain America’s existence in the 1940s and the start of a new one in 2011.

Steve woke up in a transformed New York City: bigger, higher and brighter. But duller without Natasha in it.

S.H.I.E.L.D. did not have to search for her very long. Natasha Romanoff had turned out to become a successful ballet dancer. _Red Swan_, they called her. She had even given a performance at the National Opera of St-Petersburg — _“TRIUMPHANT RETURN TO HOME COUNTRY”,_ the newspaper title had read. He found the only available footage of one of her performances online.

He watched, with teary eyes, her slender figure move gracefully across the stage; twirl, leap and soar like a free feather. The audience in the video — just like him at this moment— gazed on, completely mesmerized. Another archive footage showed her leaving one of the venues surrounded by fans and photographers. One journalist asked her:

“Miss Romanoff, you are one of the greatest ballet dancers in the world but you are also known as Captain America’s sweetheart. Does that title bother you?”

Natasha paused and turned to face the journalist. Steve read her fond and nostalgic expression through the glitching footage.

“I’ve always said that I accomplished two great things in my life. One was to become a ballet dancer, the second —to which I owe the former— was to take that job as a waitress in a local diner and meet Steve. For me, he’ll forever be that kid from Brooklyn who changed my life for the best.”

Steve pinched his upper lip as he listened to the recording. He then did more research and found out Natasha had died, at age 86, in October 2007 — four years before he woke up. She was unmarried and equally divided her fortune between the Brooklyn Dance School and a charity honoring WWII veterans. Steve pressed play again and watched the footage as Natasha stood on stage, holding a bouquet of roses while sending kisses to a cheering crowd. 

He burst into tears in front of the computer screen.

The new present, as modern and advanced as it was, needed Captain America and he poured his heart into the task. He found a team and made friends: Sam Wilson and Black Widow, Yelena Belova, who became a loyal ally and a dear teammate. And he even found Bucky back.

He saved New York, then the world, and finally the Universe. After killing Thanos and, when came the moment to bring back the Stones, he naturally volunteered to complete the task.

Only with newly found resolution and the prospect of retiring and getting his happy ending. Standing by Tony’s time machine, he turned to Bucky who stared at him sternly.

“You’re going back to the Diner girl, aren’t you?” he stated.

Steve swallowed down and nodded. His eyes filled with tears.

Bucky smiled. “Be happy, Steve.”

A tear rolled down his cheek as he pulled his best friend into a hug. “Tell her I say hi,” James murmured into his ear.

Steve picked up the case and stepped onto the platform. His heart raced in exhilarating nervousness. He activated the suit on and gave one last glance at Bucky. 

And then blinding flash of light swallowed him in.

In 1946, Natasha was finishing her shift. Tommy had left 10 minutes before and she was putting away the dishes and filling up the napkin and straws dispensers.

The entrance bell jingled behind her.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed,” she said without pausing in her chore.

“Is it too late for a milkshake?” a familiar voice murmured with a breaking voice.

She froze completely. She stared blankly at the cloth in her hands, unable to bring herself to turn around and be disappointed. She knew it was impossible anyways.

“It’s me, Nat.”

She clasped her mouth shut, muffling a whimper, and flipped around. Steve was standing in the middle of the room with gleaming eyes mirroring her own.

He was a little older — more mature-looking —, his weary expression had replaced his ingenious one, but it was him. Nothing else mattered.

She ran up to him and collided into his arms, pressing all of herself against him to feel every inch of his body.

Her eyes shut tight.

“God, tell me I’m not dreaming,” she repeated under her breath. She brushed her fingers up his neck. “I don’t care if I’m going mad, I never want this to end.”

He smiled into her neck then tucked a lock of her red hair behind her ear.

“Me neither,” he laughed softly.

She pulled away to look into his eyes. He leaned in to kiss her and it brought back a whirlwind of not so remote memories. It felt better than words could convey. She buried the side of her face into his chest and breathed in his scent. He did the same and smelled the familiar perfume of pancakes. They remained standing like this for precious minutes.

“You said you’d be waiting for me in another lifetime,” she whispered with a content expression.

He kissed the top of her head and relished in this blissful moment.

“I couldn’t,” he admitted with a smile.


End file.
